


To Bloom in Adversity

by ExoticDarkOne



Category: Horizon: Zero Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:28:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28059969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExoticDarkOne/pseuds/ExoticDarkOne
Summary: A Red Raids marriage AU, inspired by KittleSkittle's "All Things Grow"
Comments: 8
Kudos: 7





	1. Finality

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [All Things Grow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27676864) by [Kittleskittle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittleskittle/pseuds/Kittleskittle). 
  * Inspired by [All Things Grow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27676864) by [Kittleskittle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittleskittle/pseuds/Kittleskittle). 



Aloy sits in front of the fire, fletching arrows with Rost to prepare for a final hunt before the proving. The light outside is low in the late evening up on the mountain. A comfortable silence sits between them, before it’s shattered by a knock on the door. 

Rost answers it, there’s a quiet murmur from the other side, then he steps out onto the porch and closes the door behind him. Aloy frowns; that is unusual. Not just the visitor, but Rost closing her out of the conversation - literally and figuratively. Aloy grins wryly before continuing with her task; Rost will call her if he needs her, and otherwise he’ll tell her what the visitor wanted if it involved her when he comes back inside. 

She whips around suddenly at the sound of Rost’s raised voice. Rost never raises his voice…

She gets up off the floor, abandoning her arrows, and opens the door to lean on the frame. Both Rost and the visitor stopped talking the moment she opened the door, but now they’re silent, the visitor wilting under Aloy’s glare.

A moment of shuffling passes before the visitor huffs and mutters, “You know what to do.” Aloy watches him walk away down the path before turning her eyes to Rost.

“You okay? You never yell.”

Rost pulls in a breath like he’s going to say something, before he just lets it out in a hard exhale and rubs his forehead.

“No, I’m not okay,” he finally rumbles quietly to her. “Come, back inside and I’ll tell you.”

Aloy steps out of the doorway so he can slip inside and closes the door behind him, before resuming her spot next to the fire and returning to her fletching. Rost hesitates a moment before doing the same. Aloy waits, and lets him settle into the motion of fletching. She’s burning with curiosity, but she knows pestering him while he’s unsettled will just put him on the defensive. It’s only a few moments more that he’s able to take a breath over his work and finally begin talking.

“I don’t see any way to soften this blow, so I’m just going to say it bluntly; I’m still reeling over this news,” he pauses to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Aloy, the Matriarchs have struck a bargain with the Carja; they’ve offered you as a war offering of peace to the Carja for a mating with one of their generals.”

Aloy’s hands stop their work and her vision blurs with vertigo at the words. She breathes deeply several times and asks, “Carja?”

Rost shifts uncomfortably. “Another tribe, like us Nora but completely different in their ways of living. I haven’t told you about other tribes because I wanted to wait until after the proving; I thought there wouldn’t be any reason to tell you about them before you might encounter them, but...well, you see how that went.”

Aloy nods slowly, and begins to carefully return to her fletching. “War offering?”

Rost seems to relax a little when he sees she’s not going to explode, and continues, “The Carja have had a mad king for several years now. They worship the sun, but this king has taken it too far for years. He’s been stealing members of other tribes to sacrifice them in his Blood Ring to the sun. The Nora have lost dozens of people to the mad king, the Matriarchs must be desperate to stop the fighting, even for a short time, to agree to a mating for peace.”

Aloy hums almost imperceptibly, before asking, “And the general they want to mate me to?”

“I don’t know him,” Rost rumbles unhappily, “and his anonymity makes him even more dangerous than if they’d chosen one of their bloodthirsty generals.” 

Aloy hums again quietly, then firmly states, “No.”

“What,” Rost asks incredulously, turning away from his fletchings to stare at her. 

“I’m not going to do it. They’ll have to find someone else.” Aloy clarifies.

Rost abandons the pretense of his work completely to exclaim, “Aloy, this is not something you can refuse! It’s an order from the Matriarchs themselves!”

“And? They’ve not wanted anything to do with me for nearly twenty years, they have no right to call on me now.”

“There are families dying Aloy, children! You’d leave children to die at the hands of these bloodthirsty Carja?”

“Yes,” Aloy says without missing a beat; Rost looks stricken, as if Aloy had slapped him, so she continues, “Rost, if it weren’t for you I’d have died an infant as well. You can’t possibly think to paint the Carja as monsters because they kill children when the Nora do the same thing; it’s just slower coming from the Nora because the Nora don’t use swords.”

Rost’s mouth drops open for several moments, before he closes it again so quickly his teeth clack. He stares down at his hands for several minutes, digesting her words. When he speaks, his voice is heavy with severity. 

“Aloy, I understand that. Your views have always been so different than anything I’ve ever seen, you’ve always tried to keep yourself separate from your tribe-”

“My tribe,” Aloy asks, her voice raising for the first time and her eyes flashing over to Rost furiously.

“I never said they wouldn’t need you Aloy, “ Rost interrupts before she can start a heated tirade, “the strength to stand alone is the strength to make a stand. The Nora need you now Aloy, and I know Teersa wouldn’t have let this go without a fight; she’s got to have something planned, I just can’t see it. Please Aloy, if not for them then do it for me.”

It’s a long time before Aloy even looks at Rost again, staring angrily into the fire. 

“Fine,” she finally mutters dangerously, “for you.”

Rost sags in relief, and hides his face in one hand while he takes a deep breath. 

“Thank you Aloy. We’ll have to get you packed quickly. The matirarchs want you to be ready to go in five days.”

And with that, Aloy’s life changes with a foreboding finality.


	2. Gambler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Definitely short, but my hyperfocused twenty minutes of productivity are up and the next scene I want separated anyway.
> 
> Credit: KittleSkittle

Aloy walks slowly behind Rost as he leads her to the edge of the embrace, where Teersa and a contingent of Carjan soldiers waited for them. It’s the wee hours of the morning, when the sky just barely hints at a shade of deep blue. Aloy and Rost walk in silence, and Aloy ponders on what her future might hold. 

There’s really no way of knowing, considering that she knows nothing about Carja and their customs, with no way to return to the Sacred Lands if she managed to get away. One step past the gate and you’re an exile for life. It was a large gamble to make. A dangerous gamble. Which is exactly why Aloy took her odds into her own hands and spent an entire day travelling to the gate, and in the hushed cover of darkness to leave her spear and bow as close to the border as she possibly could. Large gamble or no, there’s no rule saying that she can’t make an edge in her favor.

They came upon the meeting place just before sunrise. Before anything could be said, an elder woman that Aloy can only assume is Teersa titters forward in a rush. 

“It’ll be just a moment, there are some final rituals to conduct,” Teersa calls to the Carja soldiers. A broad man with a scar down his chin nods.

Teersa leads Aloy away a couple of steps and whispers, “I know you don’t know me Aloy, and I’m not going to ask you to trust me so I’m going to get this out quickly for you,” Teersa begins making gestures over Aloy that Aloy is fairly certain are made up before continuing, “I do apologize that it was so sudden, but I couldn’t afford to send any other woman. No other woman is capable of what I’m about to ask you. Bend down.”

Aloy bows her head to the woman, who slides a pendant over her head.

“There is a man in the Carja army, his name is Helis. Kill him as soon as you have the chance. This is a Seeker blessing. It will allow you to return home when you have completed your task.”

“I can come back,” Aloy whispers quietly, straightening and looking at Teersa, who nods. “And what of my husband?” 

“Do with him as you wish,” Teersa replies, before turning to the soldiers and saying, “Our rituals are complete. She is ready.”

Aloy gives one last, long look at Teersa before turning to step to Rost, who holds out her bag of belongings. Aloy takes it and settles it over her shoulder before quickly crushing herself to him, arms wrapped tightly around his waist. He’s startled; it’s been a long time since they’ve done anything like a hug, but he squeezes her back tightly. It’s too soon that she has to let go and start walking towards the soldiers with one last look over her shoulder to watch as Rost and Teersa watch her walk away.


	3. Meeting

They walk through the Sacred Lands the whole day, the soldiers chattering quietly amongst themselves. None had done more than give her a cursory glance, so it was a surprise when a soldier with a large scar on his chin fell into step beside her. She’s on edge immediately.

He does nothing but keep pace with her, and glance at her with warm amber colored eyes. 

“My name is Ashir. Might I request my soon to be wife’s name?”

Aloy’s eyes flash up to him. “You’re going to be my husband?”

Ashir nods and gives a little quirk of lips. “Yes. I’m the captain that oversees Daytower, so when I got the note about the arrangement, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to come get you myself. Give us a chance to speak before we’re thrown together.”

Aloy ducks her head and fiddles with some of her beads. She hadn’t thought her future husband would have bothered to come get her himself, and she’s strangely touched that he did. She eyes him from the side as they walk in silence a few minutes. He’s not as tall as Rost, but about a head taller than her, and nearly just as broad as Rost. The scar on his chin is a story begging to be told, and Aloy wondered when she might have the courage to ask him about it. His eyes and his voice are warm, and Aloy thinks this isn’t going to be as bad as it seems.

“I’m Aloy.”

He gives her a small smile. “Aloy. Do you have any questions? I’d be happy to tell you anything I have the answer to.”

Aloy bites her lip before quietly asking, “Can I...see your hands?”

He blinks in surprise but stops to remove his gloves, which he tucks into his belt, and holds his hands out to her. Most of the soldiers keep moving, but one still trails behind them, standing at a respectful distance.

Aloy hesitates only a moment before she touches him, turning his hands this way and that and feeling the calluses on his palms. 

Once done she releases him, a bit embarrassed, but they keep walking with the same level of quiet ease that they’d had before. To distract herself from the fact that he leaves his gloves off, she asks, “What’s Daytower?”

He smiles a bit, and she can see he relaxes too. “It’s a Carja outpost, right on the border of your Sacred Lands. There’s a large wall and gate. It’s mostly military, but we have a couple merchants living there, and some travellers. As the captain, I mostly oversee the soldiers garrisoned under me, protect the border, and help run day-to-day logistics operations of supplies that come through.”

“What’s it like, outside the Sacred Lands?”

“In terms of animals, I think much is the same. Boar, squirrels, geese. The plantlife is completely different though. In the desert areas, there’s few trees. Mostly bushes and some small flowering plants. South of Meridian however, is the Jewel. Enormous trees cramped together and thick underbrush. It rains constantly there, and it’s always hot.”

“What’s Meridian?”

“That’s the Carja capital city. It sits on a mesa about a day’s journey from Daytower. I don’t leave Daytower often, but if the opportunity arises I’ll see if I can take you out to see it. It’s a marvel.”

They continued like that the rest of the trip, and arrived at Daytower just as dawn broke. Ashir led her to a small tent where a priest was waiting, and they had a small ceremony to fulfill the obligations of the war contract. Afterwards, Ashir bought her some breakfast of roasted seasoned meat on sticks called kebabs and gave her a quiet tour of Daytower. Movement at the balcony catches Aloy’s eyes, and when she looks out over the railing her breath catches.

“What is that?” she asks incredulously, tapping her focus out of habit, but the machine is too far away.

“A Stormbird. It’s one of the most dangerous machines we’ve come across. Thankfully it stays in that one area, though it does make itself a thorn in my side by attacking travellers on occasion.”

He leads her to his home, one of the few single houses in Daytower, where they spend most of the rest of the day talking about the various machines in the area. Aloy is actually surprised when Ashir finally suggests they get some sleep; she hadn’t even realized night had fallen. Suddenly she’s nervous as he leads her up a staircase to a half loft where a mattress covered in silks and furs lay. She hesitates at the top of the stairs and fidgets as Ashir begins taking off his armor. 

He notices her after a moment and asks, “What’s the matter?”

Aloy takes a deep breath and grinds her teeth before saying, “If you can get the mating over with as quickly as possible, I’d appreciate it.”

Aloy waits, tense as if for a blow, as Ashir comprehends her words. His expression changes drastically when he finally understands her meaning. “Aloy, that is not necessary. You are safe with me. Grab any extra blankets that you need though; it gets cold at night in the desert.”

He finishes undressing down to a pair of smalls and crawls into the bed with a near imperceptible groan before blowing out the single candle left lit. Aloy hesitates a moment, then slowly removes her boots and outer hides to follow him into the bed, as far away from touching him as possible.

Which didn’t last long because damn if he wasn’t right about the cold at night.


	4. Happenings

A few days come and go with both of them getting used to having another person in so close a space. Aloy is grateful that Ashir is a man of habit; he rises before the dawn to dress, sits in quiet comfort with Aloy over breakfast, then spends most of his day swamped in paperwork, before making his way home after sunset where he tried to finish a neverending stack of reports that needed his mark. 

Aloy hadn’t wanted to bother him at first, but Ashir always knew when she needed something. She was free to wander Daytower when she got bored, free to visit him at his post any time during the day, and no matter how tired he was when he finally came home he always checked that she’d eaten and took time to sit with her and talk. 

In this way, the days pass much the same.

Until one day they didn’t. 

Aloy slips back into the bed just before moonset, eagerly seeking warmth and hoping she didn’t disturb her husband. No sooner than she’s settled in, however, Ashir rolls over and pins her under his bulk, his big hands coming up to grasp her wrists so she can’t strike at him. Aloy freezes in panic; he’s never been aggressive to her.

“Where were you,” Ashir mutters quietly. His voice is low and even, but Aloy knows he’s furious. 

“I- I went to relieve myself.”  
“Bullshit. You can break faster than a dozen of my men and they don’t have to squat. Where were you Aloy?”

Aloy tries to wiggle some, but Ashir tenses and won’t let her move. Aloy settles for turning away from him and falling into silence. 

Ashir takes the moment to press her. “Were you meeting someone?”

Aloy doesn’t answer, just keeps staring out away from him. Ashir swear quietly under his breath. 

“You don’t know what you’ve done do you,” he asks, and Aloy’s heart pounds. “Aloy, think. You can’t honestly believe it was random chance that you were placed here with me. They take a war bride and put her in a place barely days from her home with a low born man? Sun King Jiran wants you to try to break the treaty. He’ll kill both of us for breaking the treaty then resume the war on the Nora and I have neither name nor title to protect you Aloy, where were you?”

Aloy startles as he speaks and stares up at him, heart stuttering. “I wasn’t-”

Ashir presses down on her, the pressure daring her to lie to him again. “My weapons...I’d hidden them at the border, I wasn’t meeting anyone I swear!”

Ashir pauses a moment before slumping in relief, hiding his face in the crook of her neck. It takes a few minutes of them just breathing before Ashir mumbles into her skin, “Sun and Shadow Aloy, we have weapons here-”

“My spear can’t be replaced.”

Ashir huffs before lifting himself off of her and rolling over onto his back, one hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“I’m too old for this.”  
Aloy snorts and rolls onto her side facing him. “You’re not old, you aren’t even grey yet.”

“You sure about that? Pretty sure you just scared twenty years off my life.”

Aloy smiles, then hesitantly snuggles into Ashir’s side, hiding her face as she says, “I’m sorry. I should have told you, I just didn’t think you’d actually let me have my weapons.”

Ashir’s arm encircles her, and his thumb rubs her upper arm soothingly. “I don’t care if you have weapons or not personally. In this aspect, you’re lucky your husband doesn’t have a name. Noblewomen aren’t even allowed to carry weapons.”

They speak quietly for a short time more before Ashir has to get up and prepare for the day. Over breakfast, Aloy brings in her bow and spear from where she’d hidden them.

“You have an eye for weapons,” Ashir says as he inspects her bow, clearly impressed, “and a strong arm. I can see why you didn’t want to leave them behind.”

Aloy watches him ghost his fingers over her modifications. “Um, Ashir?”

He looks up at her.

“You remember I said my spear can’t be replaced?”

He nods, and his eyes sharpen as Aloy flips the spear over, showing him a large machine part tied firmly on the end. “This is what can’t be replaced. I don’t care if I go down under a stampede of lancehorns, you get my spear first. If it’s in pieces, you get this first. Okay?”

Ashir gazes into her eyes, gauging something, before he nods. “It will be done. But please, don’t go getting trampled in a stampede.”  
After that, life became better than Aloy had ever expected it could be. Before that night, they’d been careful not to intrude into each other’s space with unnecessary touches. Now, Aloy often feels Ashir’s gentle fingers on her. Toying with her hair, tracing circles on her knee at breakfast, a warm hand settling over her lower back when she stood next to him. 

It’s strange at first; Rost had never been the kind to freely touch, but soon she is melting into Ashir’s caresses. It’s not long before she’s returning the gestures.

Aloy is up on the balcony a fortnight later, watching the stormbird turn lazy circles, when there’s a commotion at the gate. Aloy turns to see as the sound of nailed boots approaches her. Salim, Ashir’s best man, comes up to her in a huff. 

“Apologies milady, we’ve got a slave transport passing through on their way to Meridian. Captain wants me with you since Kestrel Argir is the one at the head.”

Aloy nods before wandering to stand at her husband’s shoulder, Salim in her shadow. It’s not the first time Salim has been sent to her. Any time Ashir thinks something is going on he sends Salim to stay with her, and Aloy is grateful. Salim is clearly devoted to Ashir, and takes his job in protecting Aloy very seriously. Aloy even finds his calm stoicism acceptable. Salim always calls her ‘milady’ as well, despite Ashir having no noble name to actually give her the title.

Aloy watches as the slaves are pressed through the gates and sees Nora among them.

“I thought the raids on the Nora were stopped?” she mutters into her husband’s ear.

“These were captured before the treaty. Sun King Jiran holds most of his slaves at Lone Light until the Sun Ring is ready for them,” he answers.

Aloy watches the procession calmly until she spots a single familiar face. She places a hand on Ashir’s shoulder and squeezes hard. He looks up at her.

“Would you buy a slave for me?” she asks without looking at him. He sighs and stands to walk to a guard at the front of the procession. After a few words, the slaves shuffle to a stop and Ashir motions her to him.

“Which one?” he asks quietly. 

Aloy leads him down the line and stops in front of Teb. “This one.”

“Can’t do that unfortunately,” comes a drawl from somewhere at the back of the procession. 

Aloy and Ashir turn at the new voice, and a man in black armor with a large red feathered headdress approaches them, his silver eyes watching Aloy intently.

“Kestrel Argir,” Ashir greets the man. Aloy can feel Salim tense behind her.

“Captain Balahn,” Argir responds, eyes sliding to him momentarily before returning to Aloy. “Sorry little lady, but braves go straight to the Sun Ring. Sun King’s orders. Wouldn’t want a dangerous slave in a household, you understand.”

Aloy knows a game when she sees it, and despite every nerve screaming danger at her, she huffs and flips her hair over her shoulder in a false show of being a simple woman. It helps that she has her braids out.

“You’re very kind to worry for my safety, Milord Kestrel. However, this one is no brave. He is harmless.”

Argir raises an eyebrow at her. “It is male, how is it not a brave?”

Aloy knows damn well the kestrel knows about Nora custom, but she continues to play, “Nora are different. Not all men are expected to hunt. This one is a stitcher. His only weapons are a needle and thread.”

“And why would you want such?”

“A patrol of my husband’s men got waylaid by a pair of scrappers last week. I helped stitch them up, but Kaider can attest that my stitches are far from straight.”

Argir turns to Ashir. “That true captain?”

“Yessir. I can have Kaider show you the stitches in question if necessary.”

“Your word is enough captain. Come, let’s work out a price and your wife will have her stitcher soon.”

Aloy doesn’t relax when they walk away, chewing her lip as she watches her husband nervously. She doesn’t trust that kestrel in the least. But he does nothing that threatens Ashir, and before she knows it, Teb is being released from his manacles. He keeps his head down as he shuffles to her side slowly, and Aloy can see he’s covered in injuries and barely standing.

Aloy leads him away with Salim close behind them. She feels it’s time to lay low, before she drew any more attention to herself and her husband.


	5. Gifts

It’s after Kestrel Argir has left, his procession of slaves trailing with him, that Ashir comes to the house to find Aloy. She’s shuffling through the house looking for something, before humming quietly when she finds a large basket. Ashir can’t see him, but he can hear Teb filling the tub behind the house with water.

“I’m going to get some herbs. Teb’s injuries need tending and the barracks are low on potions anyway,” Aloy explains.

Ashir nods. “I’ll go with you.”

Aloy raises an eyebrow but is glad that she’ll have company on her errand. There’s a comfortable silence as they walk down the hill and out into the desert below Daytower. 

“Tell me about Teb,” Ashir asks as they begin cutting bundles of hintergold. 

“He’s my brother.” Aloy replies, settling back on her heels. “Well, not by blood I don’t have any bloodkin. But I saved his life when we were children. He’d fallen from a brave trail right in a herd of machines. He tried to thank me, but his father forbade him. Didn’t stop Teb from sneaking out of the village every chance he got to come visit me.”

There’s a little smile as she says the last part. 

Ashir waits a moment then asks, “You have no bloodkin?”

Aloy huffs. “No. I was abandoned at birth and the matriarchs gave me to Rost to raise. He’s the man that walked me to meet you. But as Rost is an outcast, I was an outcast. It’s why Teb’s father wouldn’t let him thank me. Tribal law says you aren’t to speak to outcasts.” She gets quiet before finishing, “Sometimes, when I try to speak to someone, I can still hear the words ‘seal your lips, boy’.”

Ashir shuffles to her side and lays a hand on her back, thumb rubbing soothing circles. She leans into it for a few quiet minutes, then hums. “Let’s get these herbs finished. It’ll take most of the night to make the potions.”

It took a couple of weeks, but eventually Teb stopped jumping when the soldiers walked past or raised their voices. Slave or no, no one at Daytower ever hit a slave. Aloy didn’t know what to make of it. It wasn’t anything Ashir was doing actively, he wasn’t handing out latrine duty if they didn’t treat Teb kindly, that’s the way they were. They were even kind to her, despite the Carja’s view on women. 

Aloy had been so watchful of making sure Teb wasn’t hurt when he was moved out into the barracks, that she hadn’t realized her husband had been up to something. 

“Aloy,” he calls when he steps into the house, looking around for her. 

“Here,” she replies from the bath behind the house. 

He walks out to meet her, carrying a package of sorts that he promptly sets in front of her to pluck the comb out of her hands. She chuckles; Ashir adored playing in her hair, and his habit of reaching up with both hands and scratching her scalp is actually why she stopped wearing her braids. She’s long been over her shyness of being undressed in front of him as well, though his fingers ghosting over her skin as he carefully tugs the comb through her hair makes her catch her breath.

“So what is this,” she asks, plucking at the package.

“A gift. It’s a little late I’m afraid,”

She pulls open the twine holding it and gasps at what’s inside. It’s clothes in beautiful blues and reds with yellow and purple accents. Ashir props his chin on her shoulder and reaches around her to point out different pieces, “There’s a day-to-day outfit that you can wear, there’s a thicker layered outfit that’s armored for when you’re out gathering herbs, and this flimsy little piece is a sleeping shirt. Teb really outdid himself.”

“Teb?” Aloy incredulously runs her fingers over the silks.

“Mmhmm. I’d originally planned to buy you some outfits from Meridian and was saving up any extra change I could. That was actually the money I used to buy Teb the day Argir came through Daytower.” He chuckles. “I was wondering if I’d ever get you some new clothes when you explained Teb was a stitcher. I talked to him about it and he said he’d make your clothes for me. I have to say, buying the fabrics was a lot cheaper than the clothing the merchants were selling. I even managed to squeeze in some extra fabric for Teb to make himself some clothes.”

“Ashir, these are beautiful. Thank you doesn’t seem like enough.”

He wraps both arms around her waist and gives a squeeze. “It’s plenty. Do you want the nightshirt after your bath? I’ll take the rest upstairs. There’s one more piece inside too.”

She nods and helps him gather up the other stuff then speeds through her bath. She hangs her furs on the line next to the linens before joining Ashir in the bed. He’s waiting for her, reading a report in the light of a candle. He sits up a bit when she slides in next to him and hands her another smaller package.

“I made this one. Salim laughed every time I went to hide it from you when you came out to see me.”

Aloy opened the package curiously before she gives a small gasp. It was a headpiece, in a simple design of a stormbird. 

“It’s to hold your hair back. Remember when you asked me how I kept bruising my thumbs? Apparently hammering the little pieces is harder than I thought it’d be.”

Aloy giggles then presses into his side for a hug. “Thank you Ashir, it’s beautiful.”

They snuff the candle, and soon Aloy hears Ashir’s quiet snoring. She lays there a bit, watching his outline in the little moonlight that came in through the windows, and thinks to herself that she’s probably not going back to the Sacred Lands, even if she manages to kill Helis.


End file.
